“Hollis is on the road this weekend?” Quinn Romero, a Terror enforcer, asks. He joined the team a couple of years ago. He has hair the color of fire and a Milky Way of freckles dotting his pale skin.
Hammer nods. “He’s coaching the junior team in Ottawa. They should be back later this afternoon.”
Flip passes his game controller to Kellan Ryker, the Terror goalie, and his dark-maple eyes shift to me. “How’s it going, Talls? You have your holiday dance showcase coming up soon, right?”
“Yeah, it’s next weekend.” I try not to get overly excited that he remembered, but I also inconveniently recall the way fantasy Flip made me come last night after I’d read a particularly spicy fic update by my friend Cammie. I always replace the heroes in her why-choose stories with different versions of Flip, and of course my stupid cheeks heat.
“Is this one a solo performance? Or are you dancing with your troupe?” Flip leans forward, elbows resting on his thick thighs.
He always asks me about dance, and he always seems genuinely interested. “It’s a whole-class ensemble this time, but I have one of the main parts.”
His face lights up. “That’s fantastic, Talls, and not a surprise since you’re magic on the stage. Can you drop the date in our group chat?”
“There isn’t a game that night,” Hemi says before I can.
“So your dad will be able to go.”
“As long as he doesn’t have a meeting.” My dad can’t always make my performances, and when he does, often the Terror show up along with him.
“Right.” Flip rubs his bottom lip. “Are there still tickets?”
“I can check for you,” I offer, a little lightheaded. To be Flip Madden’s girlfriend is the ultimate dream. But he’s almost adecade older than me, my dad is his boss, and he’s part of my extended friend group.
“That’s okay. I can do the legwork.” Flip leans back, a warm smile on his perfect mouth.
“I’m so excited to see you perform again!” Rix pipes up, breaking the spell I was under.
A chorus of agreement follows. When their schedules permit, the Babes attend my dance showcases at Tilton U, where I’m a dance major. Occasionally, the guys come too, when they don’t have a game. I appreciate that they do what they can to accommodate my events, since we’re in different phases of life.
“Are you feeling confident about your routine?” Essie asks. “Cammie said you’ve been at the dance studio a lot lately.”
“Yeah, my troupe has been great about making time to rehearse.” Even if we have to take the early-morning studio slot.
Essie’s younger sister, Cammie, is one of my closest university friends. My university and the Terror world are hopelessly intertwined. Cammie’s boyfriend plays hockey for the university team and is best friends with Brody Stiles, Nate and Tristan’s youngest brother.
The conversation shifts, taking the focus off me. I sit back and listen, happy to be surrounded by the people I’m most comfortable with. The Terror crew is like a big extended family.
Well, except Flip. He doesn’t feel like family at all.
When I was a teenager, I had a huge crush on him. I still do. But it’s shifted in ways I didn’t expect over the past year. He’s a great guy. He coaches hockey for kids with special needs and plays cards with little old ladies at the retirement village.
He’s fun to be around, I’m comfortable with him, and he’s always been nice to me. Protective even. Countless times I’ve imagined what it would be like to be more than just his friend. To be his.
Warmth blooms low in my stomach and works its way up my chest.
Flip’s brown eyes meet mine, and he gives me a questioning look. It feels like he’s paying more attention to me than usual. Or maybe I’m hyperaware because of the conversation earlier at the Pancake House and his questions about my upcoming showcase. I excuse myself to the bathroom before the heat can reach my cheeks and inspire questions.
I splash cold water on my face and grip the edge of the sink. If things were different. If Flip saw me differently…
Could he?
Would he?
I’m so tired of being a fetish and untouchable at the same time.
I want someone to want me for me. Someone who cares about me and not who my dad is.
Lately the loneliness has been eating at me.
